kindred
by Benji The Vampire Confuser
Summary: Crossover with Vampire: The Masquerade. Sometimes, the real monsters aren't who we think at all.
1. Default Chapter

**Kindred**

**Part of the Omniverse Project**

**by Benji: The Vampire Confuser**

_Vampire The Masquerade belongs to White Wolf Games. Buffy and them were created by Joss Whedon. This story is based on an actual campaign that my LARP Group played._

**Chapter 1**

They were here. Or if not here yet, they would be. And he swore that it would be their final resting place. Especially one. The one that had escaped him twice. Not again.

* * *

He awoke screaming. It was the same nightmare he'd had ever since he was a child. Their screams, and then the laughter. _Figures._ he thought. _The one memory that I _want_ to forget, and I can't seem to shake it. _Lugh rose from his bed, and glanced at the window. The sun was just setting. Time to go out.

* * *

There was another in the designated spot. What would probably become Elysium. They eyed each other warily but let each other be. They waited. But not for long. Soon, an older looking man appeared before them. Literally appeared.

"Who are you?" the other one asked.

"The name is Gramps." the older man said gruffly. "Nosferatu." He looked at them. "What about you?"

"Lazarus." the other introduced himself. "Gangrel."

Lugh grinned. _Ooh, sewer rat and werewolf wanna be._ he thought. Aloud he said; "Lugh. Malkavian."

"That's what I would have guessed given that smirk on your face." Gramps said. "Shall we get down to it?"

"Why are we here?" Lazarus demanded.

"What did your superiors tell you?" Gramps replied.

Lugh decided to answer that. "Go to Sunnydale and get something. Said we'd know it when we saw it."

"Not much to go on." Lazarus complained.

"All right," Gramps said. "Let me tell you a little bedtime story."

"Whee!" Lugh squeaked. "I want to hear the Three Bears!"

Gramps ignored him. "A long time ago, a group of Elders got sick of the Jihad, and decided to do something about it."

Lugh began to whistle "Give Peace a Chance".

Still ignoring him, Gramps continued with his story. "So they created several rings, one for each clan in the Camarilla. The ring would lower one's generation."

Both Lugh and Lazarus were intrigued. The only way they knew to lower their generation, was by diablerizing someone of a lower gen. And that was one of the worst crimes a Kindred could commit.

"But," Gramps concluded. "In order to find, and activate the rings, all the clans have to work together."

"And if they don't?" Lazarus asked.

A huge pillar of fire rose up over the town, in the distance.

"Oooooo, aaaaaaa." Lugh cooed.

"What the hell was that?" Lazarus asked.

"The answer to your question." Gramps said simply.

"So we're basically at loose ends until the others get their asses here." Lazarus guessed.

"Basically yeah." Gramps confirmed. "But don't worry. I'm sure they'll get here soon."

"So how do we amuse ourselves in the mean time?" Lugh whined. "You mean I won't have any Ventrues to tease until-"

"Shut up." Gramps said, craning his head. "You smell that?"

"No." Lugh said. He had no sense of smell.

Gramps' eyes narrowed. "A stereotyper."

Lugh and Lazarus both knew what that meant. Stereotyper was Kindred slang for Hunters. Those who assumed that everything supernatural was evil. Lugh hated Hunters.

He grinned. "Oh, why didn't you say so. I'll have some entertainment after all!"

Gramps merely grunted, and vanished as soon as their eyes were off him.

Lazarus began sniffing the air, and Lugh was tempted to make a Lupine joke, but didn't as he soon saw the Hunter approach them. He was obviously new at this. Any experienced Hunter would know better than to attack two Vampires, when there was only one of him. Lugh grinned. He stepped out of the Hunters line of sight and became invisible.

"Weren't there two of you?" the hunter asked, as he got closer.

Lazarus didn't answer. He just stood in his place, watching the young man approach.

"Doesn't matter." the hunter said. "I'll take care of him when he gets back."

"You'll be dead by then if you attack me." Lazarus told him.

Lugh materialized right behind the hunter. "Boo!" he cried.

The hunter whirled, revealing a cross in his hand.

Lugh, who was charging, ready to attack, blanched, and turned tail. He ran until he was a safe distance away, and sucked in deep breaths. "Damnit," he swore, fighting bloody tears, "Damnit," he tried to shut out the screams. Clutching at the torc around his neck, he managed to do so. He opened his eyes, and grimaced. He hated hunters, and he was determined to take this one out.

He had to say he was a little impressed. The man was still alive when he got back. Though obviously losing the fight. Lazarus looked like he'd been burned by something, but the Hunter was bleeding. And not paying any attention to his flank.

Which was exactly where Lugh hit him. Keeping out of sight, and therefore invisible, he crept up on the Hunter, and at the last moment, leaping onto his back, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

* * *

Buffy sat trying to pay attention to what Giles was telling her. Something about always being alert.

"And then the Elephant stepped on her and had to wipe his feet before entering." Giles said, eyeing her closely.

"I am paying enough attention to know when you're checking to see if I'm paying attention." she told him.

"Buffy are you all right?" he asked her, concerned. "You seem fatigued."

"Well gee," she answered not even having the energy to be sarcastic, "Two weeks of Maximum Slayage and studying for finals hasn't exactly been conducive to my minimum sleep requirements." she said, yawning. "The big bad demon migration season is over right?"

"For the next decade yes." Giles reassured her. Every ten years there was a Demon Holiday, celebrating their origin, and the Hellmouth was a popular place to hold the celebration. For two weeks, Buffy, in addition to her concerns about the Mayor had been dealing with the mass migration. "And fortunately there usually follows a quiet period." he told her. "At least a week. Might I suggest you avail yourself of that and recover. You'll want to be at your best when we have to fight the mayor."

"No arguments here." she said, and left the library.

* * *

He watched her as she left the school. She was young, but they usually were. And of course she was quite pretty, but he was only vaguely aware of the fact. Physical pleasure came secondary to all else, and Christoph Harlo had little appreciation for beauty anyway.

It was her destiny that interested him. The Slayer. He had heard of her, or those like her. Doing God's work. Destroying evil in all it's forms. They had a lot in common. He did not see the hunters who flanked her, but he knew they were there. He had after all, dispatched them himself. He knew soon it would be time to approach her, but not yet. He wanted to see for himself just how good she was. Hopefully she was better than the last. The pillar of fire earlier told him what he feared. That the Cainites were already searching for the lost rings.

* * *

Lugh looked around at the assemblage. He'd been joined by a clan mate, a young woman named Cecelia. It was nice not to be the only one with a sense of humor. Another Gangrel had shown up as well, by the name of Cameron. To his barely concealed glee, there was indeed a Ventrue present. Zephyr by name. "Damn, don't any of us have normal names?" he'd asked when the introductions had been made. Sangria (Brujah), Pyramus (Tremere), Dominique (Toreador), Guinevere (Toreador again) for crying out loud. Okay so his wasn't too normal either, but at least his made sense. To him anyway.

* * *

**Ireland,**

**January 1, 1978**

"One more push Deirdre, come on!" Brigit, the mid-wife encouraged firmly. With an exhausted scream, the mother to be brought forth her son, and collapsed, gasping.

"Is," she panted, fighting sleep and fatigue, "Is he-" Her question was answered by a lusty cry from the newborn babe in Brigit's arms.

"He's fine love, just fine." Her voice betrayed none of the worry she felt. As the boy squirmed, his right arm never even twitched. "The first Beltaine birth of the season." She said proudly. "What would you like to call him?"

"Oh Goddess I can't think anymore." Deirdre said softly, her eyes closing. "What do you suggest?"

At that moment, the first rays of the rising sun spilled in the window and bathed the infant in their embrace. Deirdre smiled. "It seems the Gods have their own suggestion. His name is Lugh. For He has greeted this boy personally." With a wry smirk she looked at the now sleeping mother. "Maybe we know the father after all eh?"

* * *

The Celtic god of the sun. Nicely ironic once he was embraced. Most Kindred did not keep their mortal names once they became undead. He was of the few who did.

"Now listen up!" Gramps said loudly over the conversations going on about him. Zephyr was on his cell phone, Guinevere and Dominique were ragging on the Brujah and the Gangrel's choice in clothing. It was only a matter of time before they got to the Malks. The Tremere, Pyramus and Deacon were saying something in Latin. The Gangrel and the Brujah were keeping to themselves.

Reluctantly, they gave their attention to the Nosferatu. "We're not the only nasties walking around this place. Ever hear of a hellmouth?"

"It's what you get when you eat a chili dog right before bed and don't brush your teeth." Cecelia said.

Sangria snickered.

It was Deacon who answered seriously. "Yes I am aware that this is a hotspot of supernatural activity. Hardly the most powerful in existence, it wasn't even worthy of a Chantry."

"Well worthy of your attention or not," Gramps said. "It's a tourist trap for things that go bump in the night. You got demons of every type wandering around, mostly The Soulless."

Guinevere and her fellow Tory grimaced in distaste. Soulless. Lesser Vampires. They were not the children of Cain, but an abomination of a different species. They were not typically associated with.

"Now," Gramps continued, "That means-"

"The Slayer." Pyramus interrupted.

"Okay spooky clan," Sangria said. "Stop being teachers' pets and let the man explain to us yokels. Damn if I'd known there was gonna be a test I would have studied."

"Really?" Cameron asked her.

"No I'd just cheat off someone else."

"Can I copy your notes?" Lugh asked her.

"Children," Guinevere said imperiously. "If you'd shut up for a moment you might learn something."

"I've got nothing to learn from you Joan Rivers." Sangria snarked.

"So the Slayer." Zephyr said, getting the conversation back on track. "Is what, some manner of Vampire hunter? So what? We've all faced them before. Hell, the Gangrel and the Malkavian managed to take one out all by themselves." He glanced down at the bricks at his feet. There were still traces of blood there. "Nice cleanup job by the way."

"I'm a prankster," Lugh said, "Not a janitor."

"This isn't just any Hunter." Gramps told them. "She's something special. Somehow she was born with super powers. She's as strong and as fast as any of us. Maybe more. And she can fight. I've seen her."

"Has she faced our kind before?" Cameron asked.

"No."

"Then it remains to be seen how good she is then doesn't it."

To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Toreadors, in Cameron's opinion, were basically a useless clan. Nice to look at maybe, and of course they were great at whatever it was they did, be it singing, painting, whatever. But that was nothing you couldn't get from a mortal. Cameron didn't put much stock in the arts really. Singing was best done around a campfire, and art was so subjective that trying to judge it was just plain stupid. All in all, he didn't care much for them. Particularly the type that had showed up to look for the rings. Guinevere? He snorted inwardly. Please. And Dominique? A pair of spoiled divas in dire need of being shoved in the mud.

Ventrue pissed him off as well with their holier than thou attitudes. They thought they ruled the world. What the f--- ever. They wouldn't condescend to enter 90% of the world. But at least they did serve a function.

The Tremere just creeped him out.

He guessed he had most in common with the Brujah. Both clans seemed to favor individuality over pretense.

The Nosferatu he could take or leave. He'd seen animals worse looking than them, but their info usually came in pretty handy.

Then there were the Malkavians. He was of two minds about that clan. Sometimes they irritated the hell out of him. Other times they were great to have around. The Fluffy Malks, as the silly lunatics were called, were often good for a laugh. Of course the creepy Malks might as well be Tremere for all he cared to hang around them.

At the moment, he was stifling a snicker.

"So where do we look?" Sangria had asked Gramps. To which he'd replied that he hadn't a clue.

"Well I guess we should get the lay of the land then." Lugh had suggested.

How the hell a Vampire without the use of one of his arms had managed to climb the tree in the first place, had been one hell of a trick. The mick and his clan mate were now perched in the high branches, peering around like they were in the crow's nest of a ship.

"Ahoy!" Cecilia snarled. "There be Frat Houses off the Port Bow!"

"Used to be a snake demon livin' under one of those." Gramps mused. "Interesting Kid, ran afoul of the Slayer."

"Get down from there!" the Ventru, Zephyr demanded. "We're on a serious quest for the Camarilla! We haven't time for your antics!"

"Relax Shades!" Lugh called down. "All work and no play makes Jack a Ventru!" He looked around. "U.C. Sunnydale is awfully close to the cemetery don't you think?"

"We're on a Hellmouth." Deacon observed. "Probably makes for a wonderful place to set yourself up as an undertaker."

"Damn Malkavians." Zephyr fumed. "They'll draw attention to us."

"Let 'em have their fun." Sangria grinned. "Folks'll just think they're drunk college kids. We don't know where to start looking. What's the harm in indulging them?"

"Because Malkavians don't get it out of their systems." He said, as if explaining to a stubborn child. "If you let them have their way they only escalate." He stalked to the tree and shook it violently.

Cecilia managed to hang on, but Lugh, being the one armed boy that he was, lost his balance and tumbled out, striking several branches on the way down.

"Hey!" the female Malkavian shouted indignantly, and leaped to the ground. "What the hell is your problem?" She helped Lugh up and glowered at the offending Ventru.

"Oh I say!" some one cried from the darkness. "Are you fools looking for this?" Out of the shadows deeper in the campus came the most elaborately dressed Toreador any of them had ever seen.

"Oh my," Dominique gasped, "A Fop. I never thought I'd see one in this day and age."

The Vampire in question was dressed impeccably as an 18th century French nobleman. And he was carrying a small box.

"Is that," Guinevere breathed.

"It is indeed Madam." The Fop grinned. "The ring of the toreador clan. And it's all mine."

"Where are the others?" Pyramus wanted to know.

"Pah! Others? They are of no matter, when I slip this ring on my dainty little hand, I shall become more powerful than ever before."

"Is that saying a lot?" Lugh asked.

"Laugh if you will fool. We shall see who has the last laugh."

"No don't!" Gramps shouted in warning, but too late. Guessing the danger, the others managed to dive out of the way as The Fop opened the box, and erupted into a column of flame.

* * *

**Iraq, 1991**

"Get down!" Cameron ordered as the shell landed not far from his position. The eruption of flame and debris knocked his squad for a loop. "Sound off!" he shouted as soon as he could hear himself think again. Thankfully, there were no serious injuries. The offensive might not have been quite as easy as they'd thought, but it wasn't proving to be quite as hard as they'd feared.

The worst part really was the weather. Cameron was used to cooler climes, being a native of Maine. So the dry desert heat really wasn't his style. Well, strike that, the weather was the second worst thing. The worst thing was being away from his family. Of waking up every morning, wondering if the last time he'd seen his wife and two kids, was truly the last time he'd ever see them.

Sure they had the Iraqis out gunned and out matched, but there were no guarantees in war. He'd learned the hard way about that. His father was one of countless names engraved on the Vietnam Wall in DC. Times like this, he regretted ever signing up.

_These damn Kuwaitis better appreciate this._ He thought.

* * *

**UC Sunnydale Campus**

"Wow." Lazarus muttered, rising from where he'd melded with the ground. "Those rings pack quite a wallop."

"Dumb ass." Gramps spit. "Didn't he pay any attention to the damn legend?"

"Everyone all right?" Guinevere asked, helping her clan mate to her feet.

Everyone responded in the affirmative.

"Ring's gone." Lazarus commented. Sure enough, the box had disappeared.

"Okay so," Lugh proposed, "Whatever we do, nobody opens any jewelry boxes until we've got all of them. Sound good?"

* * *

Wesley Windham Price had been furnished with an apartment for the duration of his tenure in Sunnydale. Though he prided himself on not being one who dwelled on such things, he found it to be quite a charming domicile. With a lovely view of the picturesque UC Sunnydale Campus.

At the time that the fireball erupted from the trees, Wesley was sitting in his favorite chair, reviewing the diaries of Faith's previous watcher. He was determined to find out where he'd gone wrong. The sudden orange light streaming in his window put a stop to his musings however.

He rose slowly, and hurried to the window. As quickly as it had come, the flame disappeared, leaving only the after image spots across his field of vision. He rubbed them away and replaced his glasses. Research would have to wait. Right now he had paranormal phenomena to investigate.

* * *

"I'm hungry." Guinevere said suddenly. "Has anyone else eaten already?" Most of them had, but Dominique was all for going hunting. "Should we split up?"

"Are you brain dead?" Gramps grunted. "Lazarus and Lugh here fought a Hunter tonight. Those guys tend to travel in packs. And in case you didn't hear me before, the Slayer's out there."

"While I do not share his pessimistic appraisal of our situation," Pyramus said, "I would recommend we keep the advantage of numbers. There _are_ scarier things in this town than us."

* * *

Wes hoped that no security guards would come and have his car towed while he prowled around the grounds. He didn't have a parking permit. For that matter, trying to explain what he was doing skulking around the campus after dark might be awkward as well. Best to complete his investigation as quickly and quietly as poss-

"Well hello there handsome." Some one purred behind him.

He whirled in alarm, raising a crucifix before him in a reflexive defense. The woman confronting him merely smiled and laid a gentle hand on his wrist, and another on the cross, with no ill effects.

"No need for that." She said. "I'm just out for a little moonlight stroll. Me and my sister."

Another young woman appeared from out of the shadows and joined her. Wesley felt his heart pounding, and a flush rising to his cheeks. Both girls were very attractive, and dressed very provocatively. And the way they were looking at him was positively indecent. He didn't want them to stop.

"Why don't we go somewhere for a nice quite drink?" the first woman suggested.

To Be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Man down!" cried a voice.

"What do you have Agent Finn?" Col. Masters asked, jogging to the agents position. He was flanked by two other members of the unit. Finn, Forrest and Graham had split off to patrol near the theater building.

Finn was crouched by a body on the ground, while his wingmen watched his back. Masters' nodded in approval of the formation. The initiative had only just recently set up shop in this sleepy little town, it's base still under construction. It was masked by a supposed renovating of the campus. They'd found the perfect spot for their main compound under one of the frat houses, a deep cavern that housed the corpse of some kind of snake demon. Civilian covers for their agents as grad students and fraternity brothers secured, the previous occupants had found their charter revoked and were evicted from the building so that the Initiative's soldiers could move in. They had yet to venture beyond the campus, as they were still new to the town, but they hoped to start expanding their patrols to the surrounding area as soon as next fall. That evening, they were investigating two pillars of flame that had erupted into the night sky.

"Injured man sir." Riley said as his superior came upon them. "At least I think he's injured."

"You think?"

"He has the same symptoms of a Vampire bite," Riley explained. "But there's not a mark on him."

"Can we get him to a hospital?"

The medic bent down to examine him. "He seems a few quarts low, but off hand I'd say he'll be fine."

Masters nodded. "Finn, Graham, into your civies and get him to Sunnydale General. The rest of you, back to base. Maybe the Squints know what we're dealing with here."

* * *

Guinevere sighed as the Nosferatu grumbled again. "What?" she asked suddenly. She had little patience for his clan. They may have their use, but their hideousness, and their smell were offensive to her.

"What's a British guy doing in California?" Gramps asked challengingly. "Much less wandering alone, and knows enough to carry a cross around with him?"

Dominique scoffed. "So he's a tourist. I'm a British woman in California. And he obviously didn't know much. Remember how crosses don't effect us?"

Lugh winced. Lazarus growled. "Why don't you pull your pretty little head out of your ass and pay attention to what the old man's been saying?" he said. "This area's filthy with soulless. Those things ARE harmed by crosses."

Dominique hissed at him, baring her fangs. Deacon separated them with a motion of his hand.

"Enough. Gramps, I presume you mean to imply that this man may have been affiliated with the Slayer?"

"Exactly. Of all the yokels for these two ladies to sate themselves on, why'd they have to pick him?"

"You keep speaking of this Slayer." Zephyr said calmly. "Is she really that much of a threat?"

"To us? Honestly I don't know. But I'm not looking forward to finding out. Tell the truth I'm more worried about the Masquerade."

Zephyr nodded solemnly. "Perhaps we should have killed him then. The Slayer would have assumed it was a Soulless Vampire that killed him, leaving us off the hook."

Guinevere was appalled. She never killed her food if she could help it. "I do not tell you how to conduct your affairs Mr. Zephyr. Kindly keep out of mine. The man will remember nothing of our encounter. The masquerade is safe, and the longer we stand here arguing, the greater the chances the Hunters will find us and draw all sorts of unwanted attention."

"That actually made sense." Sangria said. "Let's go find these rings and get out of here."

"Yeah," Celia said carefully. "'Cept, do we have the slightest idea where to start looking?"

"I might." Gramps said. "I've been living in this town for a long time. Plenty of time to look on my own."

"You know where they are?" Lugh asked.

"No."

"Then how can you help?" Sangria asked.

"I found a clue to finding one of the rings."

"Perfect!" Pyramus said. "What is it?"

"I don't remember."

Lazarus glowered at him. "You're enjoying this aren't you."

"I don't get cable so I have to make my own fun."

"How does a clue you don't remember help us find the rings?" Dominique asked.

"It's written down in an old book I scrounged."

"Oh good," Deacon said. "Show us this book."

"I don't have it anymore."

There was a pause. "I gotta sit down." Cameron said wearily.

"Back in the 30's a cabal of Soulless found my lair and stole some of my books. That was one of them."

"And you just let them take it?" Zephyr asked.

"They managed to first, find, then actually get into, my lair." Gramps growled, looming over Zephyr. "You don't do that without some serious wooj in your corner. I did not LET THEM."

"Finish the story." Guinevere said.

"The Order of Aurelius was the group that got my stuff. Their leader, called himself the Master-"

"Can you say ego?" Lugh said, imitating Mr. Rogers.

"Called himself the Master, and tried to use one of the books I had to open the Hellmouth."

"YOU had a book that told how to open the hellmouth?" Deacon gasped.

Gramps merely gave him a mysterious smile. "Half of one. Bastard got himself stuck, and later, staked by the Slayer. So now he's dead and most of his order are gone."

"But not all." Cameron said.

"No. Not all. Some of 'em are still down there. I've checked the place out a few times. I don't have the mojo to get at the books." He looked at the two Tremere. "But you two just might."

"Cool," Sangria grinned wickedly. "Let's go take it to some Soulless."

Guinevere couldn't help but smile herself. The Brujah, for all their uncouth brutality was the clan she most wanted at her back when it came to a battle. Well, perhaps at her back was the wrong phrase. Standing between her and the enemy might be more applicable. It wasn't that she couldn't fight, but like many Toreador, she considered herself more of a lover than a fighter. Besides who wanted blood and guts getting on their nice clothes? She caught Lazarus eyeing her.

"Yes?" she asked sweetly. "Can I help you with something?"

"You and your clan mate," he said, "You want to wait up here?"

Now she frowned. It had slipped her mind about how dirty questing could be. Why did she have to wear this outfit tonight? No matter, she wasn't about to appear weak in front of the others. "I'll be fine." She assured him. Dominique agreed readily. She and Guinevere had an understanding.

"If we keep the grime on your outfits symmetrical you can just pretend it's part of the dress." Lugh suggested. Guinevere looked at him for a moment, then placed her palm against his head and shoved gently. "Kindly don't advise me on fashion." She said. She rather had a soft spot for Malkavians, some of the best artists had been a bit insane.

Throughout the journey, the Tremere kept silent. She thought that was just as well. The Tremere scared her. She often wondered if it were really they who ruled the Camarilla, and not the Ventru. Soon they arrived at the entrance to the catacombs beneath the city. Gramps assured them that while there were many ways to access the tunnels, this was the most direct route to their destination.

"All right." said an unexpected voice. Unexpected because Guinevere had not expected to hear a Gangrel of all clans to speak up in terms of sewers. "How many here can obfuscate more'n themselves?"

There was silence, and only Gramps responded in the affirmative. Cameron sighed. "All right, everyone stay close to Gramps so he can hide us. Lazarus, you take point with Gramps, I'll guard the rear. Deacon, Pyramus, decide amongst the two of you but I want one of you up front and one with me. Malkavians, Toreador and Ventru, you stay in the middle where it's safest. Any objections?"

Objections? Hardly. No one had any better strategy, much as it may have pained Zephyr and the Tremere to take orders from a Gangrel. They were merely surprised. Pleasantly for the most part.

Gramps indicated to Cameron how far back he could safely walk and still be Obfuscated. Then he held his finger to his lips for quiet. A wholly unnecessary gesture, Guinevere thought. There was no one in the group, she was sure, who didn't know that to make a sound would end their invisibility. The Vampire Discipline of Obfuscate did not truly make one invisible. It merely tricked the mind of others into thinking that they are not there. A person's brain would simply, edit them out. Therefore Obfuscate did not work on machines.

As they descended, Guinevere found herself reaching out to touch the tunnel walls. They were not yet in the natural caves below the town, but still in the man-made catacombs. And the wall, dingy, dirty, and smelly, actually felt, a bit like coming home.

* * *

**Australia 1899**

"Ten till places Elizabeth." The stage manager said, ducking his head into the dressing room.

"Thank you!" Elizabeth said, making a last check of herself in the mirror. Everything in place, ready to woo the crowd, and maybe steal a few scenes.

As she exited the dressing room for the wings, a British accented voice complimented her from the shadows.

"My dear," the voice said, "You look positively ravishing." A tall blond haired young man approached her. He carried a cane in one hand and had a curious red vest on, on one side it was held up on his shoulder by a strap, like a suspender. But rather than look shabby, it made him look rather rakish.

"Thank you Mr. Jest." Elizabeth smiled graciously. The man was a regular visitor to the theater, and always took care to compliment the ladies in the cast.

It wasn't the most opulent of buildings. A plain wooden affair, rather dank in the winter, and there were spots everyone knew to avoid in the rain due to leaks. But to Elizabeth, it all added to the charm.

"You'd best get to your seat sir," she suggested to Mr. Jest. "You won't want to miss the opening act."

He grinned mischievously. "No, no indeed I would not."

* * *

**Sunnydale Sewers**

The man laid brick walls soon gave way to natural rock tunnels. It occurred to Guinevere that they shouldn't be able to see. Well, _she_ shouldn't be able to see. The Gangrel and Nosferatu had, as she'd heard, ways to see in the dark. But it wasn't dark. Not as dark as it should be at any rate. There was light in the tunnels, a faint glow came from up ahead.

"We're here." Gramps murmured.

To Be Continued…


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The scent of blood was strong here. These guys obviously got their food as take-out, rather than dine in. With the way Gramps had been going on about this Slayer chick, Sangria wasn't surprised. If she'd taken out their boss, they were likely to be leery of facing her.

It was a good thing she'd eaten before she got here, or the scent might just have sent her into frenzy. As it was, it made her want to fight even more. Blood tended to do that.

"So?" Lazarus murmured. "What's the plan?"

"Gramps do you know where they're keeping the books?" Deacon asked. Gramps pointed to an alter at the back of the cavern. Deacon nodded thoughtfully. "There is a ward in place. But I believe Pyramus and I can overcome it." He turned to the others. "Might I prevail upon you all to keep the vermin off our backs whilst I and my clan-mate procure what we came for?"

"Gramps go with them and keep 'em hidden." Cameron said. "I count at least ten in there but there's a few nooks and crannies where there might be more. Lazarus, you check that out. Sangria, hit 'em hard'n fast. The rest of you, do the best you can."

Sangria sure didn't need any more coaxing than that. Getting a running start, she willed blood to her legs, giving her extra jumping power, and landing right smack in the middle of the Soulless Vampires. As she landed she struck out with her right hand, smacking one of them so hard she nearly snapped his neck. "Brujah bitch-slap kids." She grinned. "Come get some."

Behind her, Lazarus' form shifted, shrinking and getting furry. Soon a small bat fluttered about the cavern taking in the lay of the land.

Lugh suddenly flickered into view as a Vampire exploded into dust. "Oh dear," he said in a British accent. "It would appear that I am visible." Two Vampires in game face approached him. "Look!" he cried, pointing. "A distraction!" One of them actually looked. The minute he turned away, he lost track of Lugh and could see him no more. The other one found himself staked by Celia, who disappeared again before the distracted one could find her.

Cameron was a blur of punches, kicks and claws, laying open soulless left and right. Though they weren't killed, they were taken out of the fight enough for the moment. One slash left a head connected only by the barest margin. Sangria took care of that.

Two of the soulless attempted to escape, only to find Guinevere and Dominique in their path. The Lesser Vampires revealed their true faces, growling.

"Oh God," Guinevere gasped, recoiling in mock horror. Dominique merely whimpered. Now grinning, the two escapees bore down on them, anticipating a bit of fun. Until both Toreador bared their fangs, hissing, their eyes glowing. "We're scarier than you are," Dominique said in a sing-song voice as the two fled in terror into the waiting claws of Cameron.

Deacon smiled slightly. From the sounds of things his companions were making short work of the Soulless. The lesser clans might be inferior, with the POSSIBLE exception of Ventrue, they certainly were useful.

Then his smile faded. Pyramus was standing by the edge of a pool of blood. He nodded in approval as his subordinate filled several small bottles with the dark red fluid. Never knew when blood like that could come in handy. He looked forward to trying to identify it.

"Not exactly the job we came to do." Gramps growled.

"Be silent Nosferatu." Deacon admonished. "You'll blow our cover. For your information, that blood may have potential despite it's staleness."

It didn't take them long to find the ward. As Deacon had suspected, it was strong. Even the Soulless were capable of great arcane power, and if one could infiltrate a Nosferatu lair and make off with his treasures, it stood to reason that he was not lacking in power. Though his botching of the opening of the Hellmouth spoke of one who had no clue how to properly wield that power. It was just as well that such a fool was dead.

Deacon beckoned to Pyramus to join him and the two stood together, silently testing the barrier.

* * *

**Miami, 1985**

"Take a wrong turn sweetheart?" the biggest of the men asked, leering. The four of them had her penned in, blocking any hope for escape. Sarah swallowed, cursing her boyfriend for pissing her off and making her decide to walk home. Had he not been such a jerk, they could have shared a cab and thus gotten to her apartment without incident.

Instead she found herself trapped in an alley by four men, about to be…she didn't want to think about it.

*ZAP*

Three men. Thank you tazer.

What was it you were supposed to yell in a case like this? Not help, not rape, because no one would come. Fire. That was it, because everyone would come to watch.

One of the men slapped the tazer from her hand. Another seized her throat, choking off any cry she might have attempted.

"Bit-"

*EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!*

The piercing shriek from her air whistle caused her remaining assailants to grasp their ears, giving her a chance to escape. She fled back to the street, and was yanked roughly into a doorway. A woman held her fast, one hand over her mouth, the other arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

"Well done girl. Don't worry my dear child. When I'm through, no one will ever victimize you again."

* * *

**Sunnydale Catacombs, the Present**

Sangria grinned as she took out another soulless. Her sire had been right, and one hell of a teacher. But the soulless were strong as well, and a powerful blow from one sent her sailing across the cave, colliding with Lugh, bowling him over.

"See what I did there?" Lugh asked. "I broke your fall. Completely on purpose."

"And you didn't even cop a feel." She grinned. She'd always liked Malks, and this one was especially amusing.

"Well you landed on my good arm."

Sangria threw him at the Vamp that had punched her, then used her celerity to arrive at about the same time. Being hit with a flying Malkavian made him somewhat an easy target for staking.

"Well that was a bit of a rush." Lugh said.

"Which, flying or being manhandled by a sexy Brujah?"

"….Yes."

From the sounds of things, the lesser Vampires were being taken care of quite handily. Which was good because Deacon and Pyramus certainly did not need any distractions right now. Gramps looked anxiously from them, to the fight, making sure none of the soulless were coming in their direction, but the others seemed to be keeping them quite busy.

"It's done." Deacon said finally.

"What that's it?" Gramps asked.

"What were you expecting? A great unholy noise and flash of light?"

"Something like that yeah."

"Not everyone's a show off. Get the book and lets get out of here. This place is filthy."

"Oh, I don't know," Gramps said. "Once we clean out the soulless this might make a good lair."

"Seemed kind of easy to get to." Pyramus said.

Gramps shrugged. "Yeah, but it's roomy, has that old time feel to it. Just a bit of a fixer upper."

Deacon gave Pyramus an amused look. His protégé was discussing real estate with a Nosferatu. "Ahem, Gramps if you would be so kind as to pick out your book? Pyramus, get the others."

Gramps soon found the book they were searching for, and the Tremere stuffed the rest into their bags.

"Folks we're done here!" Gramps shouted.

The soulless that weren't dead, were in no position to stop them.

"Not yet we're not." Zephyr said. "No survivors, no witnesses. Remember the masquerade."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Sangria grumbled, and went and staked the remaining soulless. "Seems kinda silly keeping our existence a secret from, y'know, Vampires."

"Fortunately for the Camarilla, your feelings on the matter are unimportant." Zephyr sneered. "Now, we are ready to depart, and Gramps can tell us where to find these rings."

"Suits me." The Brujah growled. "Less time I gotta put up with you, the better."

* * *

Wesley groaned, his eyes opening, then shutting immediately. His head was pounding, and he was hungry.

"Are you all right?" the familiar voice of Rupert Giles asked.

Wes opened his eyes again, and looked around. Hospital. He was in the hospital. That did not bode well. "What happened?" he asked.

"I was hoping you could tell me." Giles said, wiping his glasses. "I received a call from the hospital saying you'd been brought in by two college students. They did not give their names. The doctors say you appear to be suffering from blood loss."

Wes' remaining blood chilled. "Vampire?"

"I don't think so." Giles assured him. "For one thing, there are no wounds. For another, you're alive. From what I can discern, you were never in any real danger from the blood loss."

Wes frowned. "Something else then. Something that…feeds on blood but, leaves no mark? What kind of creature does that without killing?"

"I don't know, but I intend to find out. For all we know it would have killed you but was frightened off by those that brought you in. What do you remember about last night?"

"I went to the University Campus," he said. "To investigate a pillar of flame. I don't know what happened after I-"

"Pillar of flame?" Giles said, startled.

"Uh, well yes. Do you suppose the two events could be-"

But Giles was already out the door. Probably off to do research.

"I, I'll just wait here then." Wes said. "Un-until my strength returns and I can assist you."

To be continued…


End file.
